The Semi Tragedy of Drosselmeyer
by Sarastro the Queen o the Night
Summary: Once upon a time there was a man who died. Before he died, he had a wife and children and a sister. This is his story.


**A/N: **So, watching Princess Tutu again, I realized -wait, for Fakir to be a direct descendant, Drosselmeyer had to have had children. Which gave birth to this story. Enjoy.

Also, I own nothing except Cirque du Soleil merchandise.

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><p>"Dieter, are you writing again?" asked Ulla, wrapping her arms around him.<p>

"It's my job, Ulla, you know that," said the man, turning to kiss his wife fondly. "Are the children abed?"

"Well, that depends. When I checked, Hans and Clara _seemed _to be sleeping, but we both know that they're playing. Listen." And they did, and heard quiet thumps and muffled giggles.

"I could stop them, if you wish." His wife gave him a gentle admonishing slap on the arm, smiling.

"Dieter! We've established no Stories about the family."

"I still can't believe that you married me without a Story." The blonde woman smiled, and sat upon her husband's lap, resting her head on his shoulder. He was ten years older than her, but she loved her husband dearly, even with his…problems. According his sister, before Ulla married him, he had been long plagued with the illness of the mind, due to the power of his Story Spinning.

Though upon marriage to Ulla, she had managed to calm the raging episodes of madness, and upon the birth of Hans and then Clara, he very rarely had problems.

"Who is this Story for?" asked the petite woman.

"For the Prince. He's asked me to write the farmers some rain."

"So you're making a whole Story?"

"No, just a poem about rain. It works the same." Ulla smiled at her husband and kissed him again, before standing.

"You finish your poem. I need sleep. Goodnight." As she went upstairs, she heard her children hush and climb into bed in the nursery, and start up again when she went past. A smile passed onto her face. She loved them dearly, despite their naughty actions.

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><p>"Mutti! Hans kicked me!" cried Clara, tugging on her mother's sleeve. Ulla turned to her and said,<p>

"I'm sure he didn't mean to, _liebling._" Clara looked up at her mother and then smiled, turning back to her breakfast. Hans was telling Dieter all about the dream he had had the night before, swinging his legs under the table.

"And then," he was saying, "the bear started singing! The lullaby that Mutti always sings."

Dieter was listening with one ear, and finishing the poem of rain for the Prince.

It was normal breakfast at their home, one that few families in their town had for some odd reason. And of course, after breakfast, the children were to go to school, Dieter was to go deliver the poem to the Prince, and Ulla was to clean the house and take a nap as was her habit.

"Clara, where are your shoes?" asked Dieter, smiling fondly at his daughter.

"I like going barefoot. Can't I go barefoot to school?" she asked.

"No, Clara, your teacher won't like that."

"Can't you write him to be more fun?"

"Dear, I don't write about people we know. I write about lands far away, with people who won't figure out it's me and lecture me about it. I have your mother for that." Clara smiled. "Now please put on your shoes, _liebling._" She did so, and took her father's gloved hand, holding her school books. Hans was "too old" to hold his father's hand, but he may or may not have grasped it about halfway to the school.

"Bye, Vati!" called Hans as he and Clara dashed into the school. Dieter waved to them, smiling fondly at them. Oh how he loved his children.

Dieter sometimes could not comprehend how anyone could be happy without a family, much less how he had survived before his wife and children came into his life.

The rest of his morning went without incident. He showed the poem to the Prince who cross-referenced it to the actual rainstorm that occurred over most the countryside. Seeing that they matched, he was richly rewarded, and Dieter returned home for lunch with his wife.

Perhaps she could buy herself a new dress or they could buy gifts for Hans and Clara. He was pretty handy with clockwork, so perhaps he could make them some clockwork dolls. Clara's birthday was coming up…

"Ulla!" he called, entering his home.

"In the kitchen, Dieter!" her sweet voice called back. Upon finding her, he saw that she had a long scratch up her arm, thin but red.

"Ulla, your arm…"

"Oh, I scratched myself on the roses in the garden. Nothing to be worried about, _Schatz._"

"If you say so…"

* * *

><p>The money went to his wife's funeral. The scratch had allowed a deadly disease into her system, one that made her muscles spasm uncontrollably, locked her jaw, too. She died in pain, but managed to pass her hand over the hair of her children and stroked her husband's cheek before she passed.<p>

Disregarding her rule, Dieter spent night after night trying to write her back to life. But he could not, and he wept for her. Many evenings, the remaining members of the family would sit in front of the fire, children wrapped in their father's arms, all three crying.

But soon, without Ulla's gentle calming presence, Dieter fell back into his moods. Hans and Clara would flee to the nursery while their father threw things and swore to the heavens that he would avenge fate's cruel trick, stealing the woman so soon.

He still walked his children to school every morning, and still wrote stories for people, but when he saw people laughing, he would immediately perceive them to be laughing at his fate. And began to write horribly tragic stories.

And soon, that's all he would write. Tragedies, but none concerning his family. A man who fell in love with a doll, the sleeping princess who didn't wish to wake, so on and so forth. He was ever so excited to see how tragically they would end.

"Vati, why don't you spend time with us, anymore?" asked Clara one day, tugging on her father's jacket. "Vati!" but he didn't answer or acknowledge her presence. Hans drew her away after a bit, taking her to the nursery. Their father had never liked to be disturbed while writing, and if he was in a mood, Hans didn't want his sister to disturb him.

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><p>It was a dark day in their home when Hans and Clara finally ran away to their aunt and uncle's house. Their father had screamed and thrown ink at them, splattering Clara's pretty dress. He demanded to know why they weren't wearing black, why they weren't mourning their mother like he was. It had been a whole year, and they had managed to mostly get over it. But their father couldn't. He just couldn't.<p>

Dieter had screamed about how his hair was now white, and why wasn't it black anymore, why didn't it match the clothes of his mourning? Why wasn't _everyone _mourning the loss of Ulla? _Why?_

He had been slowly going more and more mad with grief, until his screaming terrified his children enough to flee. "_Tante! Onkel!_" called Hans, knocking on the door, holding Clara close to him. Their Onkel Johann answered the door, and ushered them in immediately. They told their Tante Sieglinde all what happened, and she immediately promised to speak to her brother and that they could stay as long as they needed.

Which turned out to be the rest of their childhood.

Their father had gone entirely, irrevocably mad at the loss of his children too, and so Hans and Clara Drosselmeyer never returned home, too scared to face their father in madness. The man became absolutely obsessed with writing tragedy, until a group of men came together and chopped his hands off.

When the children heard the news, they cried into their aunt's embrace. He had died from blood loss, and though they had been frightened of him, they remembered their wonderful Vati and were sad that that man was never to return. At least not in this life.

Through persistent begging, those who had been frightened of the man allowed him to be buried beside his wife, where the children could visit and mourn them both.

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><p>As the years passed, a hedge mysteriously grew all around Dieter Drosselmeyer's grave, leaving his visible, but Ulla's safe and hidden from prying eyes. Finally, when a duck was brought into the story, the ghost of Dieter (in his clockwork world filled with puppets he wanted to give to Clara when she visited), managed to do other things than obsess over keeping the grave of his wife safe. Not that it was for the better.<p>

He let the doll he would give Clara for Christmas, Edel, wander in the story, to give her some personality that his sweet little girl would like. When she burnt herself, he privately raged about how Clara would have no gift from her Vati and would cry.

After the story of the Prince and the Raven was finished, Dieter took in the child created from Edel's remains, knowing that sweet Clara would love to have a doll like a child to hold and teach. And he left the town alone. Well, mostly. He still kept an eye on his beloved wife and his descendant. Hans' grandchild or the like.

He hadn't meant for the boy to fall in love with the duck, but he had fallen in love with an angel, so who was he to judge? But the fact that he kept visiting his grave and standing too close to where Ulla, that was what angered him. How dare anyone stand on Ulla's grave?

But he had no power in that town anymore. He could only watch. He could only watch as the great-great grandson of his sister's husband's brother (or something…cousin of Johann? Second cousin?) peered into the hedge and saw the grave he spent so much time up keeping and protecting.

Dieter could not do anything as Hans' boy and Sieglinde's (or relative of Johann's…or someone in his _familie's_) boy went to the hedge and slid in, finding all the flowers made of clockwork that bloomed when the sun hit them. And though he wanted to, he could not scream at them to leave her alone, he could not scream that Hans and Sieglinde (or _whoever!_) would be ashamed that they disturbed her grave, nor could he write them away.

"Ulla Drosselmeyer," read Hans' boy. "_Vor Leben hab ich, wie immer, schuldigen Respekt. Vor Liebe hab ich meine Familie."_

Yes! Yes! For love, she has her family! You! Now leave her alone, you ignorant, offensive children!

"This is fascinating! This is the grave of Drosselmeyer's wife! No one has ever been able to find it before now! Who knew it was directly next to his own grave?" cried the other boy.

_I _knew! _Hans_ knew! _Clara_ knew! _Johann_ knew! _Sieglinde _knew! _Johann_ knew! _EVERYONE KNEW! NOW GET OFF HER GRAVE!_

"I know you're very excited about this, Autor, but maybe we shouldn't disturb her grave."

Well, Hans' boy had manners. Hans had always been such a good boy, though, so it wasn't very surprising.

"Fakir, I don't think you understand! Look at all these flowers, they're clockwork. According to my research, Drosselmeyer was both a Story Spinner _and _good with clockwork. He made clockwork dolls for his daughter Clara."

"Fascinating, but not helpful. He probably left these ages ago, before he died end of story. Now I get that this is the grave of my great grandmother or however separated we are, but we really don't have to stand _on _the grave. It's a bit disrespectful." And finally, the boy backed down.

Thank you! Some of Hans' manners must have gone down the line.

As the two left, Dieter smiled at the grave fondly, wishing that he could leave another flower for her. But then, a new thought came to him. He fetched some paper, a quill, and called Uzura to him. Filling her in, he let her know his plan, and she agreed happily.

_Once upon a time, there was a man with a wife and two children. He was very happy, until his wife died. He was filled with such despair that he frightened his children beyond belief. They ran away to live with their beloved Aunt Sieglinde and Uncle Johann. The man became obsessed with tragedy, and refused to let any story he wrote or was affiliated with end happily. Then, his hands were cut off and he died. Before he did, he wrote a story in his blood of how he could control the town he lived in through stories after death._

_He watched his favorite story, The Prince and the Raven, unfold in the town. His descendants were part of the story, and thus overthrew him, shattering his hold on the land. Once his story was finished, the man realized he had nothing to do. And so, he passed beyond his own control, moving from his self imposed world with the child doll Uzura beside him-a gift for his daughter. The man was at peace, at long, long last._

At the end of the story, he held onto Uzura tight. A deep sense of overwhelming peace seemed to be before him, and the monotony of his life just days before was behind him. He had two choices, go back or go forward. And so he went forward, holding on tight to Uzura.

"_Hello, Schatz." A strong wave of delight ran through him at the sound of the voice he had forgotten over the last hundred years. "I was wondering when you'd come along."_

"_Vati! Vati!"_

"_Dieter, you silly man. Johann and I were wondering what took you so long."_

_And the little girl got her doll, and the family was together again. And just like Dieter wrote, he was at peace at long, long last._

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><p><strong>AN:** I once heard from a man who nearly died in a motorcycle crash that he had two options. Go back to pain, or go forward into an overwhelming sense of peace. He chose to go back, but sometimes wondered why he didn't go forward. His arm no longer works, but he's a writer now. You can read his books "The Dog says How" and another one. He wrote a play with my uncle in college.

Now, Drosselmeyer in _The Nutcracker _made dolls, most famously the four dancing clockwork dolls (Soldier, Harlequin, Columbine and Vivandiere) and the Nutcracker. And given the clockwork world and the dolls, methinks that that trait still remains.

Hans and Clara are also from _The Nutcracker_ as the Nutcracker himself and the female protagonist. Ulla is a legitimate German name. Johann is a German name as well. Sieglinde comes from Wagner's second opera in the Ring cycle, _Die Walkure_, and is the mother of Siegfried (also, she married her twin brother Siegmund and that's the kid's dad).

_Schatz_ means treasure, _Vati _is informal for father, _Mutti _is informal for mother, _Familie_ is family, and the epitaph means "For life I have, as always, due respect. For love I have my family."

Let me know what you thought.


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